


The Order of Overwatch

by KiwiLombax15



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Elf mage junkrat, F/F, Fantasy AU, First Meetings, Mei does not understand human courtship, Orc roadhog, Snow spirit mei, Werebear/orc Zarya, Zarya is confused, lets be honest the junkers dont change much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9702674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiLombax15/pseuds/KiwiLombax15
Summary: Chapter One: Zarya finds herself with a strange admirer, and an ancient beings learns there's more to mortals than she assumed.Chapter two: A partnership is forged in fire.





	1. What hides in frozen woods.

The blizzard was rolling was fast. The black lines of dormant trees in the forest quickly faded to white as the bear desperately plowed through the woods, seeking the familiar in nothing.

Things were always...strange to Zarya in her werebear form. Her thoughts slower but bigger somehow, emotions deeper. Instinct ruled over thought and right now fear gripped her. Both her wild bear side and her rational orc side knew that blizzards were death when you were alone. She'd lost her unit, lost the wild, crazed automaton they were tracking.  
She had no one.

A vague memory from her orc side rose, knowing that woodsmen sometimes carved marks into trees to point the way. Blunt bear claws latched onto a trunk, but couldn't feel anything. Her claws were too rough. This needed humanoid fingers.

Closing her eyes, she took a breath and _changed_ , the familiar sensation like a really deep stretch flooding her as she rose on her orc legs once more. She'd have to act fast, clad only in the enchanted tunic that changed with her to preserve modesty. Feeling the cold bite like a wolf, she lunged towards the nearest tree and began to scrabble desperately under the coat of snow.

Through the panic, she became aware of sudden, riveted attention.

…

Mei was curious. The snow spirit had lived in these woods for eons, but never had she seen a being like this in the deep depths of the woods she lurked in. A massive bear shifting to a powerful orcess, hair dyed pink with-

The Fae sniffed the wind.

-The petals of the fairyblossom bush. It was striking, such a friendly colour on the huge woman, powerful muscles bulging and shaking as she dug for something on the bark of the trees.

She was...

Beautiful.

Sometimes woodcutters and hunters came. Mei would toy with them, sometimes cheekily, sometimes fatally. They were only mortals. They didn't matter. But this one, this one with burning eyes and strong arms...

She was freezing to death, blue tinging her green skin, movements slowing. Mei shook her head, peeking out from behind a spreading oak, all but invisible in her white dress save for the shocking black of her hair. That simply wouldn't do at all.

…

She was going to die. The knowledge filled her like lead, cold and heavy. She was going to die out here, alone and frozen to death. She realized suddenly that she felt warm and groaned. Wasn't that a symptom of the thing she'd heard a learned scholar called hypothermia? You suddenly felt warm? She remembered a group of her fellow were bear soldiers who had gotten lost and been found frozen to death in their tents, in states of undress as their bodies lied to them.

And now she was going the same way.

The sensation of being watched intensified, and something whispered in her air, a breath of cold wind.

_You are very beautiful._

Zarya dismissed it as her own dying brain, before the sound of something crunching caught her ear.

Ice was crystallizing on the snow, forming a glittering path snaking through the trees. She remembered her grandmother warning her as a tiny orc pup to never trust magic in the woods, that it was the cause of the fae, who were as likely to harm you as help you. But she was going to die, anyway, so what was the harm? The ice path was solid under her weight as she followed it through the trees.

In the trees, something pale walked softly after her, leaving no footprints on the snow.

…

Hours passed, and much to Zaryas surprise, she didn't keel over with frostbite. She felt...pleasant. Mildly cool, like a crisp autumn day. Even so, she switched to her bear form, warm and snug in fur as the path of ice lead her out of the deep, dark woods. Light glimmered ahead suddenly, the light of the sentry towers of the barracks, and she roared in relief. A patrol roared back somewhere in the language of bears.

_Concerned. Safe?_

_Safe!_

_Relief._

Two human soldiers hauled the gates to the courtyard open, and her commanding officer shifted upright. She followed suit.

“Zarya! We were afraid we'd lost you!”

“It takes more than that to keep a good woman down, sir! I have a story to tell!”

“Well come on, then! We're all waiting in the mess hall, tell us over dinner!”

High above their heads, in the dead branches of a birch, Mei sighed, and in the hallway Zarya paused as she swore she heard the wind whisper softly.

_“Zarya...”_

…All soldiers on the werebear squad were encouraged to take up hobbies, to pass the long hours on patrol. Some did useful skills like woodcarving or knitting. Zarya had taken up gardening, particularly the fairyblossoms she dyed her hair with. In the winter her little garden was reduced to little dead twigs, waiting till spring to bloom, but she liked to keep an eye on them anyway, to reinforce the little fences that kept the worst of the howling gale out.

A hand full of whippy willow twigs, she stepped out into her dead garden and froze.

Flowers of ice decorated every dormant bush, blooming from the end of every twig and branch. The garden was full of soft chiming as they clinked together. She saw lilies, roses, a cluster of shimmering forget-me-nots.

And a massive shrub of fairyblossoms.

A desperate call had her whole unit crowding in, staring in amazement.

“Zarya, did you do this?”

“No! I just came out here!”

Her friend Vladimer waved a hand near a rose.

“They're so delicate...just the head from my hand melts them.This is fairy work, my friends. No mortal hand could have crafted these. I don't like it.”

The unit set to muttering, clustering protectively around Zarya as they set to work advising her on protective charms, glancing nervously at the flowers.

Personally, Zarya thought they were the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.

They were gone by the afternoon, the weak sunlight turning them to mist.

She still felt eyes on her body.

…

Over the weeks, the feeling of quiet observation never left her. The cold never bit her anymore. She could wear her lightest summer clothes in a howling storm and never feel more than cool, walking in summer even as others hurried for home, bent double against the cold. She woke in the mornings to frosty kiss marks pressed against the glass of the barrack windows, the wind in the trees hummed praises as she passed.

It was flattering, but people were talking, looking at her with fear now.

This couldn't continue.

…

She snuck out, one night, walking with confidence into frozen woods she knew now wouldn't harm her, into a clearing she'd found the other day.

“Spirit! Fairy! Whatever you are, show yourself!”

Wind whistled in the trees.

“We need to talk! This cannot go on!”

“Do you not like my flowers?”

Zarya spun around.

Glowing in the moonlight, a figure stood. She was tiny, a short, chubby little elf at first sight, clad in white robes edged with patterns of blue frost. Her hair was a deep, midnight black, lips as red as blood.

She was beautiful.

Then Zarya met her eyes and knew fear.

This was no little ice mage, an elf seeking privacy in old woods. This was an elemental, as old as worlds, old as cold itself, smiling up at her so sweetly. Zarya had once punched a dire wolf to death. Once sent a drake packing. Now cold dread swirled in her gut as she knew she was in over her head.

The elemental cocked her perfect head, brushing a hand against a dead shrub. Blooms of ice spread across it.

“I know mortals love flowers. I thought you would like them.”

Her teeth were chattering. Why were they chattering? She never felt the cold anymore.

“People are...people are talking. They say I am cursed, haunted. Dabbling in dark powers. They are only rumours now, but rumours breed. They...they fear what they don't know.”

The elemental raised a delicate hand to her mouth, pale eyes wide.

“I'm so sorry...” she breathed. “I do not understand mortal courtship. I saw a swain give flowers to a maiden once, whisper her sweet praise. I thought that was how it was done.”

Zarya gaped.

“C-courtship?”

“Why, yes. You are beautiful, Zarya. So strong and powerful. I saw you in the woods and knew I had to save you.”

“The ice path, that was you?”

“Yes.”

Zarya felt a blush rampaging across her face.

“I...thank you.”

“You have gone a funny colour, are you alright?”

“I am...surprised...at your confession. I do not...know what to say.”

“Say you will be mine.”

Her eyes widened.

“It-it doesn't work like that!”

She clapped her hands over her mouth as she realized she'd yelled at an elemental.

“Why not?”

“I...I cannot be yours. I am mine. I am not a thing to possess. Courtship is not about taking control of someone. It is...” she struggled to recall a girlhood romance with the dwarf girl next door. “It is doing things for them because it makes them happy. Understanding they are their own person, with their own desires. Mortals are not playthings. We break too easily.”

To her surprise, there was no rage on the elementals face, just amazement.

“I...did not know. I always thought mortals were simple beings, but you...you are so complex! Such intricacy in the simplest sounding things...will you teach me? Show me how to earn your affections truly?”

Zarya blushed even hotter, shuffling her feet and staring down at the snow.

“I...don't even know your name...”

“I am Mei.”

“Mei...” The name rolled perfectly off her tongue. “And you wish to court me? Some scarred soldier who smells like wet bear? There are many beautiful maidens in this town.”

“But only one you.” Mei stepped closer, soundlessly. Her cloak skimmed the snow, floating out behind her. The elemental was shorter, and snow shifted into steps underneath her, lifting her up to Zaryas level. “Teach me how to love properly. I have much to learn.”

“Please no more flowers where others can see.” Zarya whispered, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“May I keep you warm in my cold.?”

Zarya shuffled closer a bit. Chill radiated off Mei, the cold of the heart of a blizzard.

“Let the cold in. It makes me strong!”

“Well, what can I do?” Her lips were deep crimson in the moonlight. “May I kiss you?”

“...You may.”

She leaned forward, cold lips pressing against her warm ones, shifting to accommodate her tusks. They tingled against hers, freezing and soft and sweet.

Kissing Mei was like kissing mint.

They broke apart slowly, Mei's eyes lidded and dark.

“How...delightfully warm. I can see the appeal.”

“We must do this again sometime.” Zarya said breathlessly, internally screaming at herself for her awkward line. Mei only smiled.

“If my roses frightened the people, I do not think they will take to me well. Our visits must be secret.”

“Regrettably. You are very beautiful yourself. Like a majestic snowstorm.”

Mei was still cold in her arms. She would never be warm.

Zarya had always liked the cold anyway.

They kissed again, harder, more eager, and Mei giggled like a schoolgirl.

“When will my next lesson be, teacher?”

She glanced at the moon. She shouldn't be out much longer.

“Tomorrow night. Perhaps the afternoon if we get leave.”

“Then I will see you then. No more gifts in town, if it frightens people. But I will make you flowers when you see me.”

“I look forward to them.”

A gust of wind and Mei was gone, and suddenly Zarya was freezing. Grinning like a fool, she hurried back to the warmth of the barracks.

She hoped she would soon grow used to the cold.


	2. Fire and blood

“So…you’re the Roadhog, right?”

The Orc nodded, sneering behind his mask at the scrawny human sitting in front of him.

“I understand you’re a gentleman of…many talents. Particularly when it comes to…finding someone-”

“Whose sorry arse is getting dragged back here then?” he interrupted. He knew how these things went. The skinny little man in the greasy robe blinked, then smiled weakly.

“Right to the point, I like it! We’ve heard a rumour a young elf discovered a mysterious treasure. A boy by the name of “Junkrat” we believe. We’re curious about the treasure and wish to study it.”

Roadhog snorted softly. Who did this man think he was fooling? He was thieves guild for sure.

“Pay?”

“Twenty five percent of the treasures estimated market value. Does that work for you?”

He nodded. Twenty five percent was what he was usually paid.

“Got anything of his?”

A bloodstained scrap of cloth was handed over.

“The elf was last seen being waylaid by bandits near Bronans Creek. This was caught on a tree as he made his escape.”

If Roadhogs suspicions were correct, the “bandits” were thieves guild members too, but he kept his mouth shut, snatching the fabric. Without a word, he stalked out.

His chariot waited outside, a heavy monster of a ride, all studs and darkened wood. His two Dire Boars turned towards him and grunted in greeting. With a gentleness he showed to nobody else, he stroked their snouts and climbed aboard, lifting his mask slightly to get a whiff of the elfs scent from the cloth. His nose wrinkled at the smell of blood and smoke and sweat, overlying the natural elf scent of moss and trees to the extent it was barely noticeable. He’d always assumed elves were delicate, tidy little things. Looks like this one was going to be an interesting one…

…

He caught the scent trail west from the creek. The area was blackened and burned, shriveled corpses scattered around a charred crater. The center lay untouched, sweet grasses waving in the wind. Odd.

Roadhog readied his hook and crossbow, keeping them within easy reach in the chariot.

He followed the trail.

Like an arrow, the scent made its way towards the badlands. Blood mingled strongly with it. The elf was hurt.

An old quarry split the land like a scar, scattered piles of rocks making the going treacherous. He reined in his chariot and told his steeds to wait, as he followed the scent into the quarry.

Something skittered, off to his left. A little trail of pebbles trickled down a spoil pile.

A rat.

No.

He swung his head towards the noise, and a splatter of blood on a rock caught his eye. The scent was strong even through his mask.

Elf blood.

“Come out, pointy ears! Don’t make me have to kill you!” he bellowed. There was no whimper, no cry of fear. Just a deranged cackle that made the hair on his neck prickle.

“Come and get me, piggy!”

He swung his hook at the flicker of movement and was rewarded with more laughter as he struck harmlessly.

“Ooh, so close! Try again, orc!”

Once again the hook missed the shifting figure by a mile.

“Roight! Now it’s my turn!”

There was silence, and Roadhogs instincts screamed as he felt the background crackle of magic. He dodged just in time as the pile of stones he’d been balanced on exploded in fire, scattering lethal pebbles in all directions. A skinny form jumped from pile to pile, hand burning as it rained fire down on his attacker. Bleeding from innumerable holes and smoldering, he bellowed in anger and grabbed his crossbow. It was a custom job, magic and gnome technology mingled together. It took a bundle of steel bolts, magic splintering them and heating them to red heat once fired, a cloud of whistling, burning death obliterating all in its path.

He fired it at the source of the laughter. There was a scream somewhere in front of him, and he smiled grimly, before the screaming turned to hysterical laughter a good 6 feet away from the impact site.

“Oooh the pain, the pain of it all! You got meeee! I’m dyiiing! Hahahahahahah! You’ve got to do better than that to catch Junkrat!”

Roadhog looked up at the pile of rocks the voice came from behind, noting a large boulder at the base that seemed to be holding it up. With a grunt, he kicked it away.

This time the scream was genuine, a skinny figure becoming visible as the pile started to collapse. Roadhog nabbed the elf with a flick of his hook and jumped clear, sending the elf slamming to the ground and pinning it with one massive boot. Finally, he got his first good look at his prey. Unusually tall for an elf, wild orange eyes glared from behind singed, bushy eyebrows. He looked like an elf, all fine bones, sharp ears and high cheekbones, but he was battered and scrawny, missing teeth and covered in scars and soot smudges. His right leg ended at the knee and continued into an iron peg, and his right hand had been recently amputated, fresh blood staining the old bandages.

Snarling, the elf conjured fire in his one good hand and slammed it into his leg.

Roadhog roared and grabbed his hand, holding it away as he fought to remind himself this elf was walking gold. For the first time fear flickered across the mans face.

“Fifty fifty!” he gasped.

“What?”

“F-fifty fifty! Of me treasure! I’ll give you half the profit if you let me go!”

Now that had Roadhog pausing. He was used to a piddly twenty five percent in his jobs. A good chunk, but his boars needed top quality feed, literally eating into his profits. And here was this scrawny thing, offering him a big chunk of loot on a silver platter.

“How do I know you won’t just run away?”

“M-me word as a wizard! I promise!”

He raised an eyebrow, but sure enough, the boy stank of magic. Self taught, if he was any judge. None of his gestures would have been accepted by the mage guild, load of stuck up ponces that they were. He guessed that was what had happened to the leg. Magic had harsh punishments for failure.

But if he’d survived this long…

The elf still wriggling under his boot, Roadhog considered his options. A mage was useful, even a half mad one like Junkrat. And with treasure into the mix…

“What about a bodyguard? Betcha I’m not the last person to come after you.”

Junkrat glanced at his stump.

“How can I trust you?”

“You have treasure. I like treasure. I don’t have to fight you for it. Deal?”

“Getcher boot off me and we have a deal, mate!”

Roadhog lifted his boot and the elf scrabbled upright, holding out his stump to shake before noticing.

“Oop, sorry. Not used to it. Only lost the damn thing yesterday. Need a bloody replacement.”

The other hand came up, and they shook.

“Nice ta have ya on board, Hoggy. Can I call ya Hoggy? Crikey, you are a big fulla, arentcha? This’ll be good. Roight, first order'a business, need to get me to the nearest gnome settlement. Get one of their craftsmen to make me a real good hand. Need the best if you want to get the finger movements right.”

“They’ll want paying. Gnome made goods aren’t cheap. Best is Torbjorn, he’s the most expensive one.”

“Right…and I haven’t sold me treasure yet. Might be worth a fortune, but right now I got 6 copper to my name. Although….” A cunning look spread across his pointy face. “I do know there’s a bank in Markan city. Big ol’ rich one. My magic, and your muscle, we could crack it like a nut!”

Roadhog considered the option and found that he liked it a lot. He’d been stagnating recently, working the bounty hunting circuit. It was boring, unsatisfying. This, though…

He laughed.

“I know a short-cut…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People wanted more, I delivered.

**Author's Note:**

> I love fantasy AU's so so much.
> 
> Also, taking requests for the fantasy AU! AU is courtesy of Trans-Junk-rat on tumblr.
> 
> Want more like this? Support the writer here! https://ko-fi.com/fruitbird


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